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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29088942">Legalese</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinivalkoista/pseuds/sinivalkoista'>sinivalkoista</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arthur in jail, Canonical Character Death, Community Service, Drunk Driving, F/M, Hilarity Ensues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lawyer Merlin, Lots of Picking Up Trash, Minor Character Death, Oblivious Arthur</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:54:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29088942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinivalkoista/pseuds/sinivalkoista</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After receiving a DUI, Arthur's shoddy, idiotic lawyer pleads him guilty.</p><p>OR</p><p>Twelve months of picking up trash alongside the highway.<br/>Oh, Morgana was never going to let Arthur forget this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Freya/Merlin (Merlin), Merlin &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Legalese</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please note that I haven't researched courtrooms and my only experience comes from binge watching Perry Mason. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Arthur’s head was throbbing, and the clanking of the cell door opening only made it worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Up and at ‘em, Mr. Pendragon,” the police officer chirped. “Your lawyer is here to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So dear old Dad had come through once again. Arthur wasn’t too surprised, but he didn’t feel like removing himself from the jail cell cot just yet. Even if the cotton was substandard to his silk sheets, it was still padding for his pounding head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on.” The officer forcefully grabbed him by the arm and forced him into a sitting position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now, Arthur had a reputation at the local precinct, and they’d quit giving him the special treatment just because he was Uther Pendragon’s son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur groaned again and ran his fingers through his hair. But not too roughly. He wanted to look decently handsome for whatever legal representative his father had sent him this time. He hoped it was Sofia, one one who always smiled at him. He liked her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sooner you move, the sooner you can get out of here,” the officer reminded him, his voice resigned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Arthur said, annoyed, getting to his feet before the officer could force him to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh - his head </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t like that. It felt like a drum festival was beating around inside - he was fairly certain he could hear each thump of his heart through his temples.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a zombie, Arthur shuffled down the hallway until the officer poked him in the back, indicating which room he was to go in. Yawning, Arthur pushed open the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing he noticed was that the person was </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>not Sofia from his father’s legal department.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second thing? The ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were the biggest ears Arthur had ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man stood as Arthur entered the room and the door shut behind him. “Good morning, Arthur Pendragon. I’m Merlin Emrys. How are you feeling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like trash,” Arthur snapped. “How else would I feel? How quickly can you get me out of here? I have a date tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keeping the smile dancing around the corner of his mouth, Merlin raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you do? How lovely. I’m sure you’ll be over your hangover by then.” With a loud thud, he dropped his briefcase onto the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur winced, raising a hand to rub his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Merlin told him blandly in a tone that indicated he couldn’t care less about Arthur’s headache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur developed an intense dislike for this lawyer. “So how quickly can you get me out of here?” he repeated. “Or did you not hear me the first time? I thought you would have, what with your big ears.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin’s smile faded slightly. “Oh, so you think you’re funny, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur snorted. “I don’t need humor when it’s standing right in front of me.” Lazily, he crossed over to one of the plastic chairs and dropped down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin remained standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, are you going to do anything?” Arthur demanded. “I want to go home.” And nurse his hangover while planning what fancy and overly expensive restaurant he was going to take his latest date. Somewhere with candles and wine that cost an arm and a leg for a normal purse but was like throwing pennies in a fountain for a Pendragon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t we all?” Merlin muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he was out of there, Arthur was going to file a complaint with his father about this Merlin Emrys. At best, he was a second-rate lawyer, and if the state of his suit was anything to go by, his father wasn’t paying him much (and therefore not valuing his services very much), anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin opened his briefcase and pulled out a few papers. “Driving under the influence,” Merlin read off. “Normally, you’d have your license revoked since this is your second offence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur scoffed. As if that would happen. His father ran half the city. A little case of too much to drink wasn’t that bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This time, you get a fancy schmancy hearing where you get to plead </span>
  <em>
    <span>not guilty </span>
  </em>
  <span>and the court goes along with it for show. After bail is posted, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur rolled his fingers to signal Merlin to go faster. “Hurry it up, you idiot. I don’t have all day. I’ve got more important things to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin raised an eyebrow. “And here I was under the impression you were going to go home to crash in bed, imbibe more alcohol, and eat fancy chocolates that cost the same as my car payment each month.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Actually, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>fairly close to what Arthur was intending to do. “Get on with it, then,” he snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, Arthur Pendragon, are a prat,” Merlin told him, shoving the papers back in his briefcase and snapping it shut. He grabbed it by the handle. “I’ll see you in a week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, where are you going?” Arthur demanded. “Aren’t you going to post my bail?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin sent him a nasty smile. “I’m sorry. I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>such </span>
  </em>
  <span>an idiot. I seem to have forgotten to bring the money your father gave me to bail you out. It’s a shame, really. I suppose you’ll have to wait the week out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin did not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you’re serious?” Arthur leaned forward. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m Arthur Pendragon. My father owns most of this town. You have to bail me out.” He wasn’t going to spend the next seven days rotting in jail like a petty criminal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid I’m not joking, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sire,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Merlin told him sarcastically. “Enjoy your week. I hear they make horrible bread and water, but maybe things have changed since the Dark Ages.” He marched for the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin? Merlin!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mr. Emrys </span>
  </em>
  <span>to you,” Merlin threw back over his shoulder before slamming the meeting room door shut behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A week later, Arthur was as equally thrilled to see Merlin a second time as he was the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you’re happy,” he snarled when he saw Merlin checking out his busted lip - courtesy of a careless sentence he had tossed towards his cellmate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjoy your week?” Merlin asked him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve enjoyed tooth extractions more. As soon as I’m out of here, my father is going to fire you,” he threatened, “and I’m going to enjoy watching them walk you out of the building.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Merlin reached into a brown sandwich bag, pulled out its contents, and threw them at Arthur. “A suit and tie,” he explained, “courtesy of your sister Morgana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least someone had sense enough to ensure he looked presentable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fingered the tie. It was one of his favorites - royal red and woven of the softest silk the catalogue offered. It was embroidered with gold lions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your hearing is in twenty-five minutes, and since I think it’s going to take you that long to get ready, I would hurry up,” Merlin advised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Insolent, witless-” Arthur muttered under his breath. He’d never met another man that made him feel as angry as this Merlin did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make that twenty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All rise,” the bailiff called out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he rose, Merlin elbowed Arthur in the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, Arthur hauled himself to his feet. After they were permitted to sit, Arthur toned out everything the judge said until Merlin got to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Honor,” Merlin said, adopting a professional tone that Arthur would have liked to hear past the first sentence he said to Arthur, “my client pleads guilty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me! I do nothing of the-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without looking behind him, Merlin shoved Arthur back into his seat with one hand. “Excuse my client, Your Honor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t given a chance to protest further, for the judge immediately launched into the rest of Arthur’s sentencing without paying a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit </span>
  </em>
  <span>of attention to Arthur’s outrage. It was almost as though the entire thing had been scripted although Merlin shouldn’t have had that much power. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since Arthur was not one for legalese </span>
  <em>
    <span>or </span>
  </em>
  <span>paying attention in court, he spent the rest of the short hearing glaring at Merlin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin pretended Arthur didn’t exist, smiling and nodding at all the right people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twelve months of community service. Twelve months of picking up trash alongside the highway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, Morgana was never going to let him forget this. She never let him bury </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> from his nasty breakup with one of Uther’s secretaries to the fifty-grand car he crashed on the night of his sixteenth birthday to wheedle herself into Uther’s graces and push Arthur further out. Not that Uther paid much attention to either of them unless he desired some task carried out, but every </span>
  <em>
    <span>inch </span>
  </em>
  <span>counted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as they were out of the courtroom, Arthur rounded on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What in the blue blazes did you do? That’s twelve months of picking up trash on the highway! Do you know how humiliating that’s going to be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, I thought I might have an idea,” Merlin mused, ensuring his briefcase was latched before making a beeline for the courthouse doors. “Pretty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur growled. He wasn’t going to let this </span>
  <em>
    <span>idiot </span>
  </em>
  <span>walk away like Arthur was a nobody. As Merlin pushed through the doors, Arthur hurried after him. “Hey!” The fall wind nipped at his tie and set it fluttering to the left. “Hey, I’m not done talking to you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His call drew the stares and attention of the other pedestrians on the sidewalk and the street - everyone except for Merlin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur sped up and grabbed him by the shoulder. “What was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning towards him, Merlin shook him off and glared at him. “That, your highness, was what we called </span>
  <em>
    <span>justice </span>
  </em>
  <span>in law school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twelve months.” Arthur stuck a finger in Merlin’s face. “When my father hears about this-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, please,” Merlin interrupted him. “I happen to know that your father is extremely busy attempting to close the Highland deal. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>highly </span>
  </em>
  <span>doubt that he’s going to notice your disappearance for two hours every day since you’re normally off doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>who </span>
  </em>
  <span>knows what. Nobody </span>
  <em>
    <span>cares </span>
  </em>
  <span>what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur ground his teeth together. Of course the infuriating raven head was </span>
  <em>
    <span>correct. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So.” Merlin clapped him on the shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, Arthur, although I don’t think you return the feelings. Enjoy your twelve months of picking up trash on the highway. I think you’ll find the experience quite enlightening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur showed up thirty minutes late in his suit and tie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older man that he identified as Gaius, the person in charge of supervising him, said nothing but raised a thin eyebrow at him, evicting a rare but gruff, “Sorry” out of Arthur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am going to have to report that you arrived late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur scowled. “I don’t suppose we could forget about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am afraid not.” Gaius adjusted his glasses and gave Arthur another look that he couldn’t distinguish between scrutiny and disappointment. “I would recommend that you wear something more...comfortable next time although the sentiment is appreciated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll keep that in mind,” Arthur replied shortly with no intention of doing so. Picking up garbage on the side of the highway was embarrassing enough. He didn’t need to look like the average Walmart shopper on the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trash bags are in the back of the truck along with some gloves,” Gaius informed him, pulling out a flip phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who used a flip phone? It was the twenty-first century, for crying out loud, not the Middle Ages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Arthur didn’t move, Gaius looked up and raised his eyebrow again. “May I help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to get me the bag and gloves?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius eyed him as though </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the one acting strange. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a minute, neither of them moved until Arthur realized that Gaius was completely serious. Sighing, he stalked to the back of the pickup truck. It was filled with odds and ends, and Arthur tried not to touch anything as he ferreted around for the items he needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within ten minutes, the late fall air was cutting through all of the fine tailored lines of his suit and biting into his skin. Although the gloves he found mostly covered his fingers, they were thin and inexpensive, the kind one would find at Harbor Freight or Menards or whatever cheapo store had been erected now. Arthur wouldn’t know. He never set foot in them if he could help it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between the gloves and the suit, Arthur was as frozen as the TV dinners he ate in college. And there was another hour and twenty minutes left on his “shift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not only that - the bits and pieces he was removing from the highway were </span>
  <em>
    <span>disgusting - </span>
  </em>
  <span>used cigarettes, empty yogurt cartons, and chipped beer bottles. Arthur used two fingers to pick the empty food packages up and vowed to wash his hands twenty times as soon as he returned to his penthouse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, those weren’t even the worst parts. As Arthur was in the middle of tying up his first bag, a car raced by, and someone screamed, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur Pendragon!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As the other members of the group looked up, Arthur stiffened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face was burning. He had never felt more humiliated in his </span>
  <em>
    <span>life, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and considering all of the stunts he pulled, that was saying something. Maybe his father was busy now, but there were other strings he could pull to get Merlin fired like he deserved. This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>humiliating.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of Merlin being sacked kept his spirits from flagging somewhat through the rest of his shift. As soon as the hand on his Rolex marched past the hour, Arthur grabbed his trash bag and dragged it back to the truck to heft it over the side. In a few minutes, the others also returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Name’s Lancelot,” one of the other guys tried to introduce himself to Arthur as Arthur peeled off his gloves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arthur,” Arthur told him shortly, throwing the gloves into the bed of the truck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw no reason for him to attempt to make </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends </span>
  </em>
  <span>with any of them when they ran in entirely different circles. If Arthur could help it, they would never see each other outside of community service.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did that deter them from introducing themselves one by one as though they were a Boy Scout pack?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only from years of having names thrown at him that he was expected to remember was Arthur able to recall them later. Or maybe it was their odd flair. Gwaine. Elyan. Percival. Leon. Had their parents accidentally picked up a Medieval storybook instead of one one baby names?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Not that he could complain with a father named Uther, a sister named Morgana, and a mother named Ygraine.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not to mention a shoddy lawyer named </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin Emrys</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite their attempts to draw him into conversation as they piled into the pickup truck so Gaius could drive them back to the parking lot of the city utilities building, Arthur ignored them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you tomorrow, mate!” Gwaine called after him as he stalked towards his car. “Gaius said you’re riding with us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s response was the roaring of the engine as he gassed it out of the area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pendragon?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>This time, both of Gaius’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it’s me,” Arthur rubbed his hands together. Since it was freezing cold, he wanted to get inside Gaius’s truck as soon as possible even though it smelled like medicine Andand doctor’s office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius sighed. “Please take the ski mask off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why should I? You’ve told me to dress warmly, and it’s freezing outside,” Arthur pointed it out. If he’d had it his way, he would have been lounging in front of the television on his Fabio leather cinema sofa with a scotch in his hand and his feet jammed into a pair of cozy slippers that almost cost as much as the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For </span>
  <em>
    <span>working, </span>
  </em>
  <span>not robbing a bank.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur shrugged. He couldn’t care less if it looked like his next stop was a hit instead of home as long as no one else recognized his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please take it off,” Gaius asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the doors to the truck behind him opened up. “Gaius, what’s taking so long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius turned around, then winced at some pain in his back. “We will be there in a minute, Elyan. Mr. Pendragon, I am asking you to remove the mask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there a reason why I should?” Arthur challenged, fidgeting slightly. He had depended on wearing the ski mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Failing to obey me may result in more time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he </span>
  <em>
    <span>serious? </span>
  </em>
  <span>For crying out loud, he was Arthur Pendragon, not some blasted criminal. Would it hurt Gaius to let him wear the ski mask? If he were working for his father’s company, Gaius would have been tripping over his feet to accommodate Arthur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But more hours of trash were the </span>
  <em>
    <span>last </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing he wanted at this point. It was only going to get colder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he seethed, pulling up the bottom of the ski mask and rolling it up until it resembled a hat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I catch a cold, I’m suing you.” Arthur brushed past him and climbed into the truck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My, my, my.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur looked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In front of him, Merlin stood, a hot coffee in one hand. Staring down at Arthur, he took a long swig from the to-go cup. “Ah, this is good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur glared at him. “Is there a reason you’re here instead of wrecking someone else’s life?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, actually. I just thought I would stop by and see how you’re doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur snorted. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ridicule </span>
  </em>
  <span>is more like it.” Merlin couldn’t care less how he was doing because Arthur couldn’t care less about Merlin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I ridiculed you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mentally or verbally?” Arthur snarled. He could imagine the enjoyment Merlin was deriving from watching </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur Pendragon shuffle along the highway like a bum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin laughed. “Believe it or not, I’m here to see Lancelot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s eyebrows hiked. “Lancelot? You know him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m very good friends with everyone,” Merlin said. “Excluding you, of course. I’d never be friends with such a prat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raged boiled up inside Arthur. “Well, it’d make sense that you’re friends with criminals and bums,” Arthur sneered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin’s smile fell. Throwing his head back, he drained the last of his coffee cup before looking Arthur right in the eye and dropping it onto the grass. “Pick that up, would you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin stepped over his dropped cup and hailed, “Lancelot!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Lancelot called back, “Hey, Merlin! How’s Freya?” Arthur snatched the cup from the ground and angrily shoved it into his trash bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s fine! I’ll tell her you asked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Merlin, I’m hitting up a few bars tonight. Want to join me?” Gwaine asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin laughed. “After last time? Freya was a tad sore with me. I think I’ll pass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of their conversation was muffled by a hot wheel with a fancy exhaust pipe roaring past, but it was no doubt useless prattling to Arthur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, he couldn’t even slam Merlin for littering because Merlin picked up five times as much garbage as he dropped as he chatted with Lancelot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My head,” Gwaine groaned, bending over. “It feels like a herd of barbarians is trampling through it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Serves you right,” Leon remarked, “drinking that much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwaine made an unintelligible noise in the back of his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur snorted. He knew the feeling, but usually he skipped all responsibilities until he could think properly. Gwaine didn’t exactly have a choice on whether or not he was going to show up to his community service, and Arthur felt a grain of satisfaction that he wasn’t the only miserable one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like you haven’t done the same thing, Lance,” Gwaine complained. “I don’t see why you’re acting all high and mighty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Percival piped up, “but you get wasted </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>more often than he does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since Arthur didn’t really care about their drinking habits, he tuned them out and instead focused on the figure picking its way along the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That coat (some ridiculous London Fog knockoff) looked oddly familiar. In fact, hadn’t Arthur just seen it the other day? It belonged to…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fie, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur mentally cursed. It belonged to Merlin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>doing here again? Although he could buy the excuse of wanting to talk to Lancelot, Merlin showing up for a second day in a row was highly suspicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you here for today?” he drawled sarcastically as Merlin came within hearing distance. “Your mother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gaius,” Merlin answered before taking a long draught from his to-go coffee mug. “This is amazing stuff, Pendragon.” Steam wafted up from the narrow slit in the lid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur envied him, but he would cut off five fingers before admitting that. “Is it? You should know that I have Black Ivory coffee waiting for me at my penthouse as soon as I’m through here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eggnog latte,” Merlin went on as though he hadn’t heard Arthur. “Still warm from my walk over here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you have something else to do? Like bother Gaius? Other works of malpractice in law?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin shrugged. “I’m carpooling with him as soon as he’s done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fantastic.” That meant Merlin would be hanging out for quite a while. In front of Arthur. Watching Arthur’s every move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a hawk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although Arthur tried to ignore him, Merlin was as irritating as an itch. After ten minutes of Merlin </span>
  <em>
    <span>standing </span>
  </em>
  <span>there, sipping his drink and occasionally strolling along next to Arthur as he moved along, Arthur couldn’t take it anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you supposed to be suing someone?” he snapped. “I can’t imagine that my father’s paying you to lounge on the side of a highway with Starbucks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the record,” Merlin said, “I would never stoop as low - or as high, considering budgets - to consume coffee from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Starbucks. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s revolting. One of the first things I vowed to do with my law degree was to never drink disgusting coffee again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How nice,” Arthur sneered. “It’s good to know you’re putting your degree to good use.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, Merlin could have told Arthur that he was using his degree in crayons, and Arthur would have given it the same worth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur himself had found no such trouble in his life getting whatever coffee he wanted. Even though he had earned a business degree per his father’s wishes, he received an allowance each month, and it made the schooling worthless to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go bother someone else,” Arthur told him shortly on the off chance that Merlin would actually listen to him for once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin considered it for a moment. “No, I don’t think I will. Gwaine’s nice, but he’s going to be a grump with that hangover of his.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That left at least four other people (five if you counted Gaius) for Merlin to pester, but Merlin didn’t seem inclined to move in their direction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know Gaius, anyway?” Arthur asked gruffly, almost falling flat on his face as he reached too far out of his center of gravity to grab a soda can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s my uncle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur regained his balance and looked from Gaius back to Merlin back to Gaius.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Great-</span>
  </em>
  <span>uncle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Not that Arthur was concerned about Merlin’s relations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Come tell Lancelot to lay off me!” Gwaine called. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll lay off you when you lay off the alcohol,” Lancelot retorted, throwing a beer can at Gwaine. Gwaine caught it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Merlin trudged over to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally. Some peace at last. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Arthur threw the last garbage bag in the back of the truck, he sarcastically asked Gaius, “Garbageman duty tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius eyed him over his glasses. “Soup kitchen,” he answered. “Let me write you down the address.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Gaius handed him scribbled it down and handed him a scrap of paper, Arthur stared down at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would rather eat tuna out of a can than play chef.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>royal </span>
  </em>
  <span>pain, Morgana,” Arthur complained, slouching further back into the leather of his couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>talking about Merlin Emyrs, right?” Morgana asked without leaving his kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Who else?” As far as he knew, there was no other person as annoying as him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve met Merlin. He wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>half-</span>
  </em>
  <span>bad,” Morgana remarked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur frowned. Just what kind of magic did Merlin wield to earn “not half-bad” from Morgana? Morgana didn’t like anyone except her personal assistant Gwen. “Has Uther been working you too hard? Are you hallucinating from exhaustion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entering the grandiose space that went for Arthur’s living room, Morgana snorted. “No, of course not.” Morgana would never admit to any sign of weakness. “But I’ve met Merlin a few times before, and he seemed very decent compared to the lawyers Uther normally hires.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Decent? Morgana, I picked up trash for four hours on the side of a highway, and now I’m working in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>soup </span>
  </em>
  <span>kitchen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was already imagining all of the trouble he was going to have to go through to have his clothes dry cleaned if he so much as flecked a drop on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>poor</span>
  </em>
  <span> you,” Morgana commented, rolling her eyes. “You know, despite what you think, I believe the past two days have been rather good on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Good?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she said, snagging his glass of wine as she crossed the room, “for one, you haven’t been drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur picked up one of his decorative sham pillows and threw it at her. The tassels barely brushed her as she glided from the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>doing here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Funnily enough, I have the same question for you, but I have a sneaking suspicion of what the answer would be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur glowered. “I should have a restraining order for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin smiled. “I’m afraid you’re going to need proof of danger to your person for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s glower deepened. “Where’s Gaius?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He isn’t going to help you throw me out. He’s quite glad I’m here, doing something productive with my time instead of sharpening pencils for your father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur snorted. It somehow made him a little bit happier to know that Merlin was forced to do such a menial task for a Pendragon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>mean that literally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s amusement died. “Well, good for you, then, not sharpening pencils.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I rather thought so, too, yeah, since I’m still trying to pay off my degree.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur heard plenty of people complain about the amounts they owed after spending four years at an institution but had never felt the pressure of debt crashing down on his head. Debt. Ha. As if a Pendragon would ever go into debt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were the ones other people came to sell their own souls to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s world turned white. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clawed at his face and held their piece of fabric that had swathed his head as far away in front of his face as possible. “An </span>
  <em>
    <span>apron? </span>
  </em>
  <span>What’s this for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Morgana had been there, she would have laughed her perfect head off at the notion of Arthur in an apron - after snapping several photographs for proof and blackmail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>put it on,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Merlin explained pleasantly. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>tie </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. It keeps your fancy clothes from being stained, and it keeps me from going mad hearing you complain about how stained your fancy clothes are. Wow! What an invention!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, Merlin, you left all of the onions to me!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was on purpose, Leon!” Merlin yelled over his shoulder without looking back. “Come on, Pendragon, it’s out of the cooking pot and into the fire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur pushed Merlin away. “I can manage </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re cutting onions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur blinked. “Excuse me? Isn’t that </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>job?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Arthur, normally you tell other people to do things for you, and now I’m telling you to do something for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of all the </span>
  <em>
    <span>nerve. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“When my </span>
  <em>
    <span>father </span>
  </em>
  <span>hears about the way you’re treating me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your father isn’t in charge here. Take it up with Gaius.” Merlin patted him on the back, causing him to violently jerk away, before drifting off to another part of the industrial kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius. Naturally. “Uncle Gaius.” Who would most definitely take Merlin’s side over anything Arthur said with his condemning eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Leon greeted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur looked around to make sure he was the object of the salutation. “Hello,” he replied awkwardly. He wasn’t used to returning that sort of thing, and Leon wasn’t exactly a person he would single out to be friendly with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wash your hands!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Merlin called from somewhere on the other side of the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know to wash my ruddy hands!” Arthur yelled back, ignoring the attention he drew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once you’re done with that, you can grab some gloves from there.” Leon nodded at a stainless steel dispenser with a thin piece of plastic sticking out of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right.” Arthur moved to the huge sink next to the cutting station and washed his hands with some of the slimiest soap that he had ever felt. It took three rinses to ensure that all of it was off. On his way back, he snagged a pair of gloves. The first pair ripped because he pulled them out too harshly, so he threw them away and grabbed a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he returned to the cutting station, a knife and a pile of vegetables were waiting for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrinkled his nose. He would bet his next allowance that they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>organic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The handle to the knife was constructed of cheap plastic, but at least the blade was a decent size. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Toss them over there when you’re done.” With his knife, Leon pointed at a big pot sitting next to them that Arthur had bypassed before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right.” Inwardly, Arthur bristled at being told what to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>yet </span>
  </em>
  <span>again, but he said nothing as he began chopping his first vegetable, avoiding any onions for the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leon must have worked in the kitchen before. Compared to Arthur’s, his movements were precise, controlled, and swift, and he didn’t seem to mind the other workers brushing past them and occasionally bumping into them or the ear-splitting alarms that went off intermittently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’ve you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The out-of-the-blue question almost caused Arthur to jump. “How have I been? Uh...fine, I suppose. Uh…” Blast it, the first thing that popped into Arthur’s mind to return was asking what crime he was in there for. “How have you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, thanks. Looking forward to the holidays.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, right. It was getting colder. Arthur supposed Thanksgiving would be rolling around soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Arthur agreed awkwardly. “The holidays.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took an experimental sniff of the air. Although he had noticed a few smells earlier, a nose-tingling fragrance was now wafting through the air, and it was accompanied by Merlin yelling, “We open in half an hour! Where are the styrofoam plates?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look where you put them last,” Elyan called from somewhere behind Arthur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right! Because I was going to look where I put them </span>
  <em>
    <span>first! </span>
  </em>
  <span>How </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid </span>
  </em>
  <span>of me.” Merlin’s tirade faded slowly out of earshot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Leon, trade me,” Lancelot said, approaching them. “Percival wants your help with portioning. He can’t get it right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Leon abandoned his knife and his gloves, and Lancelot took his place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looking forward to the holidays?” he asked Arthur, attacking the rapidly dwindling vegetable pile with as much if not more efficiency as Leon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur gritted his teeth. If there was one thing he hated… “I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you spending them with family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wasn’t it against privacy laws to be grilling him like this? “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Arthur told him sharply in hopes of deterring any more questions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Uther Pendragon held any family events, they were to showcase their accomplishments and wealth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was absolutely no reason for Arthur to feel guilty. Lancelot must have had an ulterior motive for asking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arthur! Come here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was he, now, a dog?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Arthur!’” he mimicked under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corner of Lancelot’s mouth twitched as though he’d heard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After discarding the knife and then his gloves, Arthur moved over to where Merlin was standing at the front counter. It was in front of a large “window” that opened up into the main section of the cafeteria filled with long tables and benches. Although it was deserted, Arthur caught sight of at least ten people milling about outside the front doors, stomping their feet, breathing out puffs of steam, and occasionally putting their faces and palms to the door to look inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re serving,” Merlin told him. “Grab a new pair of gloves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Serving? Here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, in the military. Of course here.” Merlin shot him a look. “Gloves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Arthur snapped, twisting to grab yet another pair from a different dispenser. “I just think…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You actually think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A vein throbbed in Arthur’s temple. “Yes, believe it or not. The concept must be a novelty for you. I just think that my talents would be better suited elsewhere.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, we don’t allow alcoholic beverages on the premises,” Merlin informed him. “So you’ll have to be stuck with serving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m not an alcoholic.” There was nothing wrong with enjoying a glass now and then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Court verdict is guilty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t court.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>court, and I say you're guilty. Lawyer, judge, and jury. You’re serving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur wrinkled his nose. “They’re going to see my face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exasperated, Merlin rolled his eyes. “That’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>point, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur. Even though you’re being forced to do this because of your own stupidity, people </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>seeing people they recognize serving. Especially if they’re as high and mighty as your family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So they can mock us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin frowned. “No. Because it shows you have a heart. Look at Leon. See how much he’s putting on each of the plates? That’s about the amount that you’re going to need to do. Now that most of it’s cooked, we’re going to concentrate on getting this out to everybody,” Merlin explained. He ducked out of the kitchen area and half-jogged, half-walked to the glass door of the building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he unlocked it and opened it, the first person pushed his way through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin barely beat him back to the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You all right there, Arthur?” Leon asked him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, right. Arthur wasn’t quite used to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>server </span>
  </em>
  <span>role. Usually, others were serving him, and he wasn’t sure he was enjoying the reversal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin, however, jumped in with what Arthur considered exaggerated gusto. “Good evening, Agnes. How’s your shoulder?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine,” the older woman answered, hungrily eyeing the bit of soup that Arthur was ladling into a styrofoam bowl. “How’s Freya?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s just fine! Looking forward to the holidays. I think she’s working on perfecting her biscuit recipe already,” Merlin answered cheerfully. “How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two people behind Agnes, an older woman with gnarly grey hair and lumpy fingers frowned nastily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s Freya?” Arthur asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My wife.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>married?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes? What? Amazed that at least one person finds my personality charming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I pegged you more as the kind of guy who’s single, just out of college, and living off Ramen noodles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin laughed. “We do live off Ramen noodles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His merriment died whenever he saw the gnarly woman up next in line. Instead of handing her the full bowl in his hands, he completely ignored her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not dead yet?” she asked in a voice as old as her face, a wicked glint to her eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I could say it’s nice to see you Bastet, but that would be lying,” Merlin growled. “Now get out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rude, rude, rude,” Bastet chided, wagging a finger at Merlin, but the expression on his face must have communicated clearly what he was going to do if she lingered longer. Clutching her bowl of soup close to her chest, she scurried away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>about?” Arthur asked, befuddled, dipping ladle into the rapidly dwindling supply of stew. Even though Merlin was an annoying person, their reactions to each other seemed rather extreme.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bad blood.” Merlin refused to elaborate further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur spent the next few weeks dragging himself out of bed at noon and then to whatever community service project Gaius was overseeing. More often than not, Merlin was present in a helping or “supervising” capacity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was grinding away at Arthur, and he wasn’t sure if it was in a bad or good way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But overall, despite Merlin’s mismanagement of his court hearing, Arthur felt pretty decent. Instead of hosting Thanksgiving dinner, Uther had chosen to forgo a celebration until Christmas to accommodate associates. Morgana hadn’t tried to humiliate him for working in a soup kitchen, and Sofia from the legal department had winked at him the other day at the hour he had spent in the office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His good mood, however, evaporated when he attempted to buy a new watch to replace his old one, which had gotten scratched on asphalt whenever Merlin had tripped into him and pushed him over the other day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I apologize,” the salesclerk told him, “but your credit card declined. Do you have another one that we may try?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s card had </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>declined on him before, but he supposed the company </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>make a mistake every now and then. “Yes.” He pulled out his wallet and wiggled his second card from the slot. He handed it to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A minute later, she turned back around from the cash register with an embarrassed smile on her face. “It was declined.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur frowned. “Impossible. Run it through again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s company policy to run all declined cards through a second time,” she told him. “Do you have another one, or…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s face was flaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One moment,” he told her coldly, walking off a little ways from the store’s counter and pulling out his cell phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, he tried his father. Although Uther didn’t answer, Arthur hadn’t really expected him to, so he called Morgana next. If there were a problem with their bank, she would be the first to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What do you want, Arthur?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Morgana answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up with our bank? My card declined.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Did you try a second one?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though she couldn’t see him, Arthur rolled his eyes. “Of course I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A pregnant pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It slipped my mind.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What </span>
  </em>
  <span>slipped your mind</span>
  <em>
    <span>?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Although the clerk at the counter was trying to be gracious since the Pendragons were well-known customers, she was fidgeting and running her finger along the edge of the counter as she waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Uther heard about your DUI charge.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what?” Arthur pressed irritability. He was cutting his time close for appearing for his community service, and the last thing he wanted to receive was Gaius’s eyebrow of shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He wasn’t too happy.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Casting another glance at the anxious clerk, Arthur snorted. “Since when has he ever been too happy?” While Uther promoted both of them, Morgana was definitely the favorite child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I mean </span>
  </em>
  <span>really </span>
  <em>
    <span>not happy. He told me that he is cutting off your extra funds until your community service is over.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur demanded. “You can’t be </span>
  <em>
    <span>serious.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Morgana told him carelessly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>you make your bed, you lie in it.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgana, of course, had never received any DUIs on her license. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Arthur fumed, “that’s just fantastic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You keep your penthouse, but the chef goes.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“The chef? What, so I can’t buy anything, and I’m supposed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>cook </span>
  </em>
  <span>for myself?” This was getting ridiculous. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Looks like it. I’ve got to run, Arthur. If you have any problems, take them up with him, not me. I’m not the messenger girl.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgana hung up on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur stormed out of the store without acknowledging the clerk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the next few hours, he discovered just how hard Uther was cracking down. When he exited the store, he found out that his car was </span>
  <em>
    <span>also </span>
  </em>
  <span>being confiscated until his community service was over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also received an email that he was expected to show up to work for a minimum of five hours the next day or else Uther would further cut what little his allowance had been reduced to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something wrong, mate?” Gwaine asked as he stormed up to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything is fine,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he snarled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want an apron?” Merlin asked him politely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur took stock of the set up. Gaius’s van was parked next to the wall of one of the older buildings downtown that was covered in graffiti, and Elyan, Percival, Leon, and Lancelot were prying the lids from five-gallon paint cans. Since it was colder than before, Arthur’s hands were turning red from being bitten by the wind although he was wearing one of his puffier coats (thank goodness Uther hadn’t thought to confiscate </span>
  <em>
    <span>those). </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>No thanks,” he sneered. “I would rather not look like a Swedish housewife like the rest of you lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His remark effectively cut the mood. No one else said anything as they prepped the painting grounds, and Arthur leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms. Unless they ordered him about, he would let </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> set up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not catching the obvious message that he wanted to be left alone, Merlin sidled up to him. “Something bothering you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. You.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, really, I meant something </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>bothering you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, Emrys, are </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>bothering me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, out with it. I’m not going to leave you alone until you tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur had no doubt about that. Merlin was like a pesky mosquito that managed to avoid getting swatted every blasted time. He huffed. “My father found out about my little driving incident and decided to temporarily cut off my funds until my community service time is up. He also wants me to work in the office.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin blinked at him. A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>it?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s it?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur scrowled. “What am I supposed to live off for...how many more hours is it now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously?” Merlin asked him, crossing his arms. “That’s what has you all worked up? I mean, I knew you were a prat, but I think you’ve been elevated to </span>
  <em>
    <span>clotpole.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Clotpole? What did that even </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Whatever.” If Merlin was just going to laugh at him, he was done talking with him. He turned away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin grabbed his arm. “No, I’m serious, Arthur. Do you think your life is bad right now? How much do you know about Gwaine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his arm out of Merlin’s grasp, Arthur huffed. Engaging Merlin in a conversation wasn’t going to improve his mood since he was already </span>
  <em>
    <span>seething </span>
  </em>
  <span>at the raven head. “What does Gwaine have to do with this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gwaine is a retired soldier. He lost his whole squad during a failed mission. Did you know that? That’s why he drinks all of the time. He doesn’t think he should be alive. He’s here because he got into a bar fight and threw a punch at the wrong person. And Percival. His wife and son died in a house fire, and he was caught trying to sell drugs to pay for his daughter’s hospital bills. I could go on. You probably thought they were all vagabonds, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur swallowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what,” Merlin continued, “you have a horrible father who raised you to be a prat and who now slightly regrets the error of his ways. You’re not the only one with daddy issues around here. My dad left before I was even born. You’re just lucky enough to have the money. For once in your life, Arthur Pendragon, get your head out of the sand. You actually have it pretty good compared to some people. So shut up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin stormed over to Gaius’s truck. Sliding into the front passenger seat, he slammed the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dusting his hands off, Lancelot straightened and ambled over to Arthur. He jerked his chin at the truck. “What was that about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Arthur growled as he brushed past Lancelot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day, when Arthur showed up at their next location, he shocked everyone into silence by saying, “Good morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All work on painting immediately halted as Leon, Percival, Lancelot, and Gwaine stared at him, agape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You feeling all right?” Leon asked him cautiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfectly,” Arthur snapped. “Are we painting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greetings to all knights of the realm!” Merlin called from somewhere behind Arthur. “And Arthur, too, I suppose.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reminding himself that he was trying to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>mildly pleasant, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur gritted his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah.” Merlin stopped to Arthur’s left as Gaius inspected one of the paint cans. “What happened to the white we were using yesterday? That is an </span>
  <em>
    <span>ugly </span>
  </em>
  <span>color. Who thought that would be a good idea for a playground?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding a hand to his back, Gaius straightened up. “I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin raised his eyebrows. “Well, that explains it, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leon snorted, and Gaius sighed. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time, Merlin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Merlin turned to Arthur and looked up and down as though he were inspecting him. He harrumphed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of helping, Merlin hung around and chatted, claiming that he was scheduled for an appointment with a client that evening. Although he tried to be subtle, Arthur got the feeling that he was attempting to test Arthur out after their previous conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with Merlin, his answers came across as prickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Merlin </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>pleaded him guilty and sentenced him to two hundred hours of community service. Arthur didn’t easily forget that.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin soon abandoned him for the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although Arthur wasn’t sorry to see him go, there was a strange poking feeling in his gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When are we going to get to see Freya?” Gwaine demanded. “The both of you keep squirreling yourselves away on your date nights. Get a life, Merlin. Invite us over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s assuming Freya wants to see you,” Merlin quipped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he hadn’t been making a minimal effort to be a smidgen nice to Merlin, Arthur would have killed him for his coffee - he always brought them on the coldest days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have you know that I am a </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>specimen,” Gwaine declared hotly, puffing out his chest. He was crazy enough to wear the thinnest jacket, and Arthur wondered how he wasn’t freezing his head off each time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanted specimen in a pathogen lab?” Merlin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He both wanted Merlin to keep acting...well, like Merlin and for Merlin to get out of there because he naturally grated against Arthur’s nerves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment, someone’s cell phone started ringing. Arthur looked around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percival held up both hands. “Not me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s me.” Merlin shifted his coffee cup to his other hand and wiggled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. “Hello?” Placing it against his ear, he took a few steps away from them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Arthur.” Leon dumped more paint into his tray. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Arthur was trying incredibly hard </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to get any paint on his gloves and was failing miserably. He was probably going to have to throw them out later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you do to make Merlin so mad yesterday?” Leon asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen him that fed up with someone before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As though Arthur was going to divulge that. “That’s none-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thud cut off the rest of Arthur’s words. He jumped. “What in tarnation-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the sidewalk next to the equipment they were painting was the remains of Merlin’s coffee, the cup halfway crushed and the brown liquid splattered on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin was striding away, his steps short, his shoulders hunched. His cell phone was nowhere to be seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin!” Lancelot called after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin raised a hand but kept walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What in the blue blazes was that?” Percival asked, coming over, his paintbrush completely forgotten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helplessly, Lancelot shrugged. “I have no idea. He took a call, but we didn’t hear what it was about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gaius yelled from the other side of the playground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur squinted. Merlin was just a black dot now, disappearing among the other pedestrians on the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call him,” Percival offered, pulling out his own cell phone as the others in their group converged around the remains of Merlin’s coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uncomfortable, Arthur toed the paper cup. He wasn’t quite sure he belonged in the circle of concern over Merlin, but he did want to know what had riled him up so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No answer,” Percival reported. “He sent me to voicemail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius shoved his clipboard into Lancelot’s hands. “I’ll go see if I can catch Merlin. He can’t get very far on the street with the evening shopping crowd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Lancelot agreed, staring down at the clipboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius shuffled over to his truck. After he cranked the engine, it puttered out of the playground’s parking lot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I guess we should get back to work.” For once, Gwaine’s tone was dampered, and he looked far from excited even though slapping paint on structures seemed to please him normally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Leon agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur was the first to move towards a paintbrush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur did not find out what happened with Merlin until two weeks later while talking with Morgana on the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want a lawyer there at the meeting.” If people wanted to meet at seven in the morning, Arthur was going to ensure a second brain was present because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> certainly wasn’t doing the thinking that early.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sofia?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Morgana suggested. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t you like her?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur wrinkled his nose. “Is that Emrys fellow around?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Merlin?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, him.” Arthur checked his watch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>The same Merlin who doomed you to ‘two hundred hours of picking up trash’?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I would be nice this week,” Arthur said.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Since when have </span>
  </em>
  <span>you </span>
  <em>
    <span>been concerned about being nice to Merlin? You sit on your couch for two hours and complain about him for three  hours every week. You know what - forget it, I don’t have the time.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Morgana sighed. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin is on personal leave, and I’m not sure when he is coming back. His wife died.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freya? She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>A car crash with a drunk driver.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The words rang through Arthur’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A car crash with a drunk driver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freya was dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Arthur? Are you still there?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I see.” Arthur cleared his throat. “Well. Thank you for telling me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you need me to find you another lawyer?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, thank you.” Arthur no longer felt like speaking to Morgana or attending the meeting or anything, really. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, goodbye, then.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Without prompting from Arthur, Morgana hung up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur had never met Freya or seen her picture. He didn’t know what she looked like, how her voice sounded, or even how long Merlin and she had been married.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur had never asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d always found romantic relationships embarrassing to witness since Uther had never searched for someone after Arthur and Morgana’s mother died, but now he wondered what it would be like to be loved by someone and be connected to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all that Arthur Pendragon possessed, he did not own love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And to think Merlin had something he didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or used to have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur tried to imagine how it would feel to find someone and to love only to lose it forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To think that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>had been carelessly out on the road under the influence. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>could have been the one to kill Freya because of his carelessness over the law. Because he had thought it would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun </span>
  </em>
  <span>to go racing the streets while </span>
  <em>
    <span>drunk. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In a way, he was just as responsible for her death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind his eyes, a headache was forming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur felt strangely hollow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur took three weeks to build up sufficient courage to find Merlin's office’s number at Pengradon &amp; Associates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paced up and down the hallway until he had garnered enough to knock on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since Arthur had been rather vocal in his opinion about Merlin, he wasn’t sure if the lawyer would want to see him, but he couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the back of his knuckles, he rapped on the door three times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in,” a muffled voice answered after a slight pause during which Arthur strained to hear anything beyond silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur pushed open the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although the office was small, it was occupied by Merlin alne. A metal desk in the center of the room was surrounded by three looming bookshelves packed with volumes, and a white board filled with illegible scribbles was propped up on the desk against the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The decor that caught Arthur’s attention the most, however, were the photographs - some of Gaius and a middle-aged woman Arthur didn’t recognize but mostly of Merlin and a young woman with black hair and chocolate-colored eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur felt like he was intruding merely by looking at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you?” Merlin asked him flatly.  “Unless the upholstery is below your grade, you’re free to sit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur winced but took a seat in the single chair across the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin lowered the lid of his laptop halfway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nervously, Arthur grabbed one of Merlin’s twenty pens that was about to fall from the top of the cluttered desk and fiddled with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to-” His voice came out all croaky and weird. After clearing his throat, he tried again. “I wanted to apologize to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Merlin raised his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For…” Arthur struggled to find the right words. Although he had rehearsed in front of his bathroom mirror last night, it was quite difficult to bend his pride enough to say what he wanted with Merlin sitting right in front of him. “For...being a clotpole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the love of - couldn’t Merlin say anything else besides </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Arthur cleared his throat again. “For being a clotpole and driving under the influence and for Freya and for...for being a clotpole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t kill her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that.” Arthur hit the pen against his leg several times. “But I...I still...I still </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. I’m sorry, Merlin. I was a horrible person. I never thought - I never stopped to consider the kind of consequences my actions might have caused. I didn’t kill Freya, but I could have. And I’m sorry for that. And how I treated you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin looked down. “I loved Freya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through a large lump in his throat, Arthur swallowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll never be able to-” Merlin cut himself off, holding a fist under his nose to keep himself from crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur said nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Merlin dropped the hand and looked down again. “Sorry. Thank you, Arthur, for coming and apologizing. Freya would have liked to meet you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Arthur told him again. The words felt inadequate and empty, but he didn’t know what else he could offer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few weeks ago, he thought he was everything. Now, he felt like nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re friends with Elyan, Percival, Leon, Gwaine, and Lancelot, but if you ever need someone to talk to...someone to be with...I’ll even let you bill the hours,” he added on the end, trying to pass it off somewhat jokingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears welling up in his eyes again, Merlin blinked. “Thank you, Arthur.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur stood. He was about to open the door when Merlin stopped him. “Arthur?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. His jaw set determinedly, Merlin stared at him. “I will not hesitate to plead you guilty again next time. That’s also what Freya would have wanted. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One corner of Arthur’s mouth twitched upwards in a smile. “That’s assuming there’s going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>be </span>
  </em>
  <span>a next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gruffly, Merlin harrumphed. “We’ll see about that. The festivities start at eleven in the morning on Thanksgiving. You can get the address from Morgana’s files. Don’t be late. Also, please get out of my office and allow the rest of us to get your work done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur blinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one had wanted Arthur at their holiday celebrations in his entire life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a way, he didn’t feel like he deserved it after what he had done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you serious?” he asked, just in case he had heard Merlin wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Now what part of </span>
  <em>
    <span>get out </span>
  </em>
  <span>did you not understand?” Merlin grumbled, opening his laptop again and typing furiously at the lock screen. “Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> can understand that. It’s not like I’m speaking legalese.”</span>
</p>
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